


Peach

by yeaka



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Ficlet, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 18:57:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10950708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: They’re very different people, but Bubblegum still looks out for Marceline.





	Peach

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for “College AU” prompt on [my bingo card](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/158937866370/fic-bingo).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Adventure Time or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

She passes by the cafeteria to check, even though Wildberry’s never one to start false rumours. Sure enough, the menu’s been revised, yet again, to a green-focused diet. The coffee vendor outside the library only sells in creams and chocolates, and even the vending machine halfway across the campus stopped selling ketchup chips a month ago. The rest of their junky alternatives vary only from yellow to orange. None of it will do, and really, with an unwritten history paper due in two hours, it’s the last thing Bubblegum should be focused on.

But Bubblegum’s made a point of doing the right things whether or not they’re convenient, and being a decent friend—whether or not it’s vocally reciprocated—is high on her priority list. She immediately starts fanning out from the cafeteria in concentric circles, checking everywhere but the open courtyards. The comfortable sofas dotting the foyer above the library would be a prime place to check for this time of day, but the blaring sun through the skylights right above them rules them out. At least there’s a clear trail to follow; eventually, she catches a wisp of song coming from a staircase, and while Candy U boasts plenty of acoustic singers, _none_ of them have a voice like Marceline.

Bubblegum realizes, of course, that her own feelings have made her far from objective. She’s still sure Marceline has real talent. She follows the haunting lyrics down the winding staircase, past two floors, and finally to the crook at the bottom, where she finds Marceline hiding under the overhang. Draped in shadows and tucked completely out of the way, Marceline rests against the wall, eyes closed but voice in song. She looks tired, but she always does—they don’t offer the nocturnal classes she’d prefer. She looks up only when Bubblegum gets about a meter away, and then her cheeks flush pink through the grey. Immediately defensive, she asks, “What do you want?”

“To find you,” Bubblegum returns. She can feel the annoyance slipping into her tone, even though she told herself just yesterday that she would cut Marceline some slack. Marceline’s attitude still gets her back up. She cuts out before she can stop herself, “You made it hard enough.”

“Good,” Marceline sniffs, but when Bubblegum droops in more hurt than irritation, she flushes deeper and looks awkwardly away. “...It’s just really bright today, okay? And my stupid Poetry teacher never lets me draw the curtains!”

That seems like borderline abuse, given that glass windows only stop the burn so much, but what Bubblegum fixes on is: “You take Poetry?”

“It’s for my music,” Marceline insists, before Bubblegum can explain that she didn’t mean anything bad by it. “We can’t _all_ be Physics and English and Economics majors.”

“Actually, I finished Physics two years ago. I’ve been working on Psychology and Engineering since.” 

Marceline lets out a dramatic groan, as though she can’t imagine anything worse. But then, most people don’t understand Bubblegum’s insatiable need to conquer it all. It helps to be relatively immortal, which Marceline, at least, should understand.

Marceline’s a different sort of being than just about anyone Bubblegum’s ever encountered. And she knows all the Bananas on the hockey team. She also knows that a lengthy debate over their differing scholarly goals will get them nowhere, so she diverts back to her original purpose and cheerfully announces, “Anyway, I think I know why you’re so grumpy today.”

Marceline hisses, “Because the sorority queen is bothering me again?”

Ignoring the jibe—which it’s clearly meant to be but isn’t really; Bubblegum’s perfectly pleased with her power and popularity—Bubblegum fishes around in the pink bag resting at her hip. Amidst an array of textbooks, notebooks, various stationary and half-finished inventions, she has a lunch-only pocket somewhere. While she searches, she explains, “Because they’re only serving green food today, and you never bring your own.”

“Well, you try commuting from halfway across Ooo at the crack of dawn! It’s a long enough fly already without carrying extra weight when this stupid place is supposed to have it’s own—” She cuts off when Bubblegum extracts a large, glossy red apple. It was meant to be a spare study snack, but she doesn’t need it like Marceline must. 

She thrusts it forward, bending down to offer it, and says, “Here.”

Marceline just blinks at it. Bubblegum insists, “I’m feeling like a salad wrap anyway. I’ll let you know if there’re any red peppers in it.”

Marceline’s face is heating again. For a moment, her bravado slips away. She seems to war with herself whether to take the charity or not, but eventually, she sheepishly plucks it out of Bubblegum’s hands. Then she grunts, “Thanks,” and looks abruptly back to normal.

Bubblegum still takes it as a win. Straightening out, she airily answers, “No problem. And hey, maybe if you’re a little nicer to me next time, I’ll talk to that Poetry teacher about arranging shadier conditions for you. Ooh, perhaps I could even make a personal contraption—” Marceline groans again, but Bubblegum just waves it off, her mind already off in the clouds over another genius innovation. Marceline can disparage them all she wants; they always _work_.

It takes a tremendous force of will for Bubblegum to bring herself back down. Clearly, Marceline doesn’t have the energy for it, and she knows her to-create list is already full. She wants to help Marceline, of course, but she does have a paper to write. As Marceline sticks her fangs into the apple’s crimson skin, Bubblegum sighs a quick, “Later, Marcy.”

Marceline grunts, “Bonnie,” and turns away, now busily sucking the colour out of the apple.

Bubblegum’s on the second landing when the song picks up again, a little cheerier this time.


End file.
